Wrongly Shelved
by Canadino
Summary: Arthur and Alfred bond over written porn. You read that right; but it's still rated T because it doesn't get graphic. USUK, bookstore!AU


**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: -

[=]

Wrongly Shelved

Arthur inhaled. He exhaled. He inhaled again. Somehow, some part of him thought that the intake of oxygen might actually whisk him away from his uncomfortable situation. Well, it really wasn't uncomfortable for him, since he really wasn't subject to scrutiny – he was only doing his job – but it was still awkward. One hand on the scan gun, one hand lying flat on the counter, he stared at the books in front of him, then at the young man who was standing on the other side of the counter. He remembered his cashier dialogue.

"Oh. Welcome. Do you have a rewards card?"

"Yeah!" The blonde was a little too excited. He was grinning too much. Fishing into his pocket and pulling out a rather battered wallet, he fumbled around with it until he extracted the gold bookstore rewards card and Arthur scanned it listlessly. _Alfred F. Jones_, the screen read.

Arthur took another breath and took the first book and scanned it. _Dorm Porn, $15.99_.

It wasn't often that anyone came around to the checkout line with a pile of written porn. Arthur was vaguely aware that the bookstore stocked such items, but he had never really encountered someone whose entire purchase consisted of this sort of literature. He glanced at the gaudy covers of men and women staring coyly out. This was the sort of stuff that didn't beat around the bush. You got your fifteen dollars and ninety-nine cents worth of straight up smut. "For a friend?" he asked, as he _had_ seen several teenagers mumble something about buying Playboys for a friend.

"Nope!" Alfred F. Jones chirped, looking completely at ease. There was no sense of embarrassment or modesty on his face. "All for me!"

"That's…" Arthur realized he had actually nothing to say. He bagged them in the thin, white plastic bag and nearly asked if Alfred F. Jones needed a gift receipt. It happened sometimes. They were mechanical questions. Alfred F. Jones held out his hand expectantly, as if he had thought Arthur was going to grab the porno books and run off on his own. Arthur gave them back, along with the change and the really awkward receipt with snatches of _boobs_ and _ass_ littered along with various numbers. "Here you go. Have a nice day."

"Oh, I _will_," Alfred F. Jones chuckled, with a grin and a wink. Arthur felt himself flush despite himself. He glared a hole in the back of the brown jacket of the leaving customer. No ordinary human being would hum like nothing was wrong and leave a bookstore with R rated books. Society as he knew it was going to the gutters.

(Pun intended, Arthur decided, after realizing that it had been a rather clever one.)

[=]

The next time Arthur saw Alfred F. Jones was a couple weeks later, when he was walking to the backroom to get a copy of Percy Jacksonian for a wide-eyed, pig-tailed girl in the front of the store. He had nearly not stopped after a glance and realized that Alfred F. Jones was standing in front of a shelf in the literature section, in between Shakespeare and Thoreau, and in his hand was a suspiciously modern-looking book. It disappeared between the books on the shelf before Arthur could get a better look at it, but he suspected it wasn't supposed to be there.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" Deciding the girl could wait, Arthur marched over and plucked the book back out. As he thought: a book about fetishes with a picture of a leather-clad ass shining right out at you. "This, my good sir, does not belong in the literature section," he said. Alfred F. Jones didn't look at all abashed.

"It does," he replied.

"Might I ask how?"

"Oh, you know." Alfred F. Jones shrugged. "For all you know, the people who read this classic literature are all those bookish types. Like librarians with tight collars and guys in tweed suits. Oh, and sweater vests. Those sort of people." He grinned as Arthur was about to sputter an indignant remark at how stereotypical that thought was. "And it's those kinds of people who usually have this sort of secret interest, but they're just too embarrassed and tightly wound to admit it."

"Be as that may," Arthur said levelly, keeping his voice down so he did not disturb the ones who came to read and not buy (they were pretty obvious; they just stood around for hours flipping the pages to a book before kitty-cornering it and walking back out. Arthur occasionally would take out these bookmarks and watch later in the week when the person in question searched in vain for his spot), "but this does not belong here. There is a section for it. These sections are here for a reason."

"I get it, I get it," Alfred F. Jones said, holding his hands in front of him in surrender. "I probably shouldn't have moved your free time reading material."

Arthur was about to ask what he meant by that. He looked down. He was wearing a green sweater vest. Touché. When he looked up, Alfred F. Jones grinned at him and held a hand out.

"Alfred F. Jones. Call me Alfred."

"Good day to you, sir," Arthur said curtly, taking the fetish book with him. He heard Alfred laugh at his back and ignored him. He got the Percy Jacksonian book from the back and handed it to the girl, who gave him a strange look. He realized he was still holding the book with the leather ass on it.

As the girl walked away slowly, shooting him dirty looks now and then, Arthur turned to see Alfred laughing again from behind a paperback with a crackling spine. Yes, Arthur concluded, placing the fetish book on the cart to be shelved, the bookstore was a magnet for pretty damn creepy people.

[=]

"I hardly think you can comment on my choice of reading material, _my good sir_." The crude imitation was harsh to Arthur's ears, but getting caught in the back of the bookstore reading a magazine meant for gentlemen's clubs' waiting rooms was even more awful. Arthur looked up. Alfred was smirking at him.

"Why are you back here?" Arthur asked incredulously. There was no point hiding the magazine. He was caught with it already. He would have thought no one would wander back here with the large rubbish containers and a bad view of the parking lot of the mall next to the bookstore. Alfred whistled at the centerfold page Arthur was on and met his eyes. He shrugged.

"I asked where you were and they said you were on break." Alfred nodded toward the bookstore wall. Arthur scoffed and closed the magazine, straightening up and feeling the cracks of his knees as he did so.

"I would have thought you would have answered it, but I'll ask the obvious anyway. What were you looking for me for?"

Alfred looked at him in surprise. "I don't know your name. I wanted to find out." After a pause, "Duh."

"Why…"

"'Cause I wanna get to know you!" Alfred threw his shoulders back. "I'll have you know I bought those books for the sole purpose of making the cashier person uncomfortable and you acted like you didn't care. Therefore, I concluded it could either be because of two things. One," he said, holding up one finger, "is that most patrons of this fine establishment buy that sort of thing, but since most of the people who come in are old farts who buy biographies about movie stars, I would have to say that it's two," he continued, holding up another finger. "And that is that _you_ are a reader and that is why you weren't fazed." He snapped his fingers. "Good deduction, right?"

"Admirable, Sherlock," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I would like to make it clear I am not a lecher. I just…" It was a bit useless, really, since he was still holding the magazine. He shifted it behind his back, but the movement drew Alfred's eyes and the man grinned again. "I just…appreciate, that's all."

"Ah," Alfred nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "In that case, I would like to appreciate as well. Do you have any recommendations for me?" Arthur studied him, searching for any sign of teasing, but Alfred looked genuinely interested. "Oh, but first, a preference." Alfred twisted his lips and pointed. "Not a fan of thick eyebrows, if you were interested in things like that."

"Sod off, you bloody wanker!"

[=]

He was not being a creeper. No, it was only looking into Alfred F. Jones's list of purchases just to be able to recommend any books related to his interests. That was all. He didn't look him up to find his email address or phone number. No, it was just business related. Really.

Interestingly enough, the first book Alfred had purchased was not anything related to any sort of sexual act; it was a rather lengthy tome on the history of America. A couple of other purchases confirmed this interest in the nation's past, along with smatterings of other quirks: there were a couple biographies about Monroe (the woman) and Presley (the singer) and a book about bears with a gift receipt. A couple of movies were also bought: several old classic black and white films, several classic color films, and a couple westerns. The blip about the whole written porn was followed by some travelers guide to England, which Arthur found rather amusing. Everything he had bought before suggested a great patriotic streak, but the last book was unusual.

Now Arthur's pride boasted it had something to do with him, but common sense retorted that was a stupid notion. The old romantic merely stared forlornly out his eyes and thought.

[=]

"Hey now, I would have thought you were more an opera kind of guy, Arthur."

Arthur didn't look up. "I appreciate all kinds of theater as well. As any sophisticated, cultured individual would." He slid the soundtrack of the musical back in its rack. "And what do I owe this pleasant bother for today?"

"This." Alfred grinned as he held up the red book. "_Dorm Porn 2_. Yes. I know. I requested it and it came in. I'm a bit excited, you know." He flipped it over. "You know, when I first saw this, I thought maybe it was some documentary about how sexual colleges were nowadays, but then I saw erotica and I was wrong." He cracked it open, the spine protesting and making Arthur cringe. "I really like these titles, too. Something about whores and paying for school." He started reading and Arthur cut him off immediately.

"Now, I don't think that's quite necessary."

"Of course not. You've read it already." Alfred looked satisfied with himself for the quip. Arthur didn't find it important to retort.

They stood there for a while and Arthur ran his fingers over the CD soundtracks before Alfred cleared his throat. "Uh," he started most eloquently, "I know this must be one of the worst pickup lines you've ever heard, but…" He waved the book around. "Would you like to try some of these stories with me?"

"A date would be nice," Arthur said offhandedly.

"Candlelit?"

"No need to go that far for a first date."

"But not fast food."

"I would cut your bloody balls off if you tried that stunt."

"Friday at seven, then!" Alfred beamed. "Not actually sure where the shindig's gonna be, but I'm around here often; I'll get things figured out eventually." He glanced at _Dorm Porn 2_. "I actually didn't want this. It was an excuse to talk to you." Too damn honest, Arthur thought. He pulled out some cash.

"Buy it for me."

"Hell yeah," Alfred cheered, taking the money and practically dancing to the counter. It was as he suspected; he couldn't go wrong with those bookstore chicks.

Owari

[=]

Note: For real, guys. Dorm Porn 2 exists. Now before you go thinking I read it or bought it, let me explain. I was at the bookstore lately in the literature section and right there in the middle was this red paperback with the words 'Dorm Porn 2'. My first thoughts: whoa, someone did some sort of literature book about how sexual dorms are? But no, it's actually a real piece of written porn. I couldn't resist opening it when I read the back cover. Oh my, children. It's not for the faint hearted at all. I had to write a fic around that. Bookstore UK! Is appropriate, I think.


End file.
